Sub-Zero
by sidekick heroisms
Summary: While Bruce Wayne meets with the kidnappers to deliver the money, Wally West makes an attempt to rescue Dick Grayson from a chilling fate. Two-shot.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Aw. This was so much better in my head. :(

* * *

Wally West was a bundle of nerves.

It didn't matter if it was Bruce Wayne or Batman himself, Wally did _not_ like being on the man's bad side, but it had been worth standing up to him if it meant he could have a hand in making sure his best friend was returned home safely. Clearly, Bruce had not been looking for help when Wally appeared on his doorstep and offered it, but Wally really hadn't been _asking _and there was very little time to argue over the matter.

So Wally listened carefully to the earpiece given to him less than an hour ago as Bruce met up with Dick's kidnappers for the swap. His job was to listen for any tip-offs to Dick's location, an indicator that Dick wouldn't necessarily be in the clear even if Bruce Wayne complied with their demands.

And so when he heard it – _Narrows Bridge _– Wally _ran_.

The winter air was cruel and burned the exposed skin of his face. He ignored it as he raced for the bridge, skidding to a stop just behind a support beam. There, smack-dab in the middle of the bridge, a black Sedan was purring, two goons propped up against her side, layered against the cold and sharing a cigarette.

Beneath the bridge, a deep, frigid river surged.

When Wally didn't see Dick right away, he feared he had come to the wrong place. That panic heightened when he realized his ear piece was suddenly missing. _Must have lost it during the run here. Crap._ Somewhere, Dick was in the hands of some of the lowlife criminals that Gotham City seemed to regurgitate on a daily basis, and here he was trying to figure out if he was even in the right place! What if he was too late? What if he had heard wrong?

A tiny jingle broke his thoughts. Wally watched as one of the men –the shorter, stubbier one – reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone.

"Yeah," he answered briskly, his breath coiling into the air. "…Yeah, I figured he'd want to." He turned to the other - tall, with stringy hair and a crooked nose - nodding towards the car with a smug grin. "Wayne wants to hear the kid's voice."

The trunk popped open, and the taller man wrenched a struggling and gasping Dick Grayson out from the cramped space. Wally winced at how poorly dressed for the weather his friend was, already shivering without a coat or hat, or shoes for that matter. The ropes twisted around Dick's ankles made it impossible to run, the ones trapping his wrists behind him made it impossible to engage, and the blindfold made it impossible for him to see.

The phone was shoved against Dick's ear and a gun nestled against his temple. "Say hi."

"…Bruce?" Dick breathed into the phone. From his hiding place, Wally strained to listen, angry now about losing the earpiece. He'd give anything to hear Bruce's side of the conversation as well right now. "Yes, I'm fine. …Where are you?"

Dick played the victim well, but Wally could hear a hint of true distress in his voice.

The phone was snatched away from him then, though the gun stayed in place. "There's your proof. Alive and kicking," the kidnapper spoke into the phone before snapping it shut. He gripped Dick's shoulder painfully. "Though not for long."

A length of rope was pulled from the trunk and then attached to the knot already securing Dick's ankles. At the opposite end of it was a cement block. Wally's stomach shriveled; it didn't take a genius to know what their intentions were.

It was time to make appearances.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Wally warned darkly, stepping into the open. He eyed the gun, still buried into Dick's hair and tilting his head to the side.

"Who the hell is this clown?" the gunman snorted, pulling Dick closer as an extra layer of precaution. Wally resisted the urge to be impulsive; these guys wanted to send Dick to the bottom of the river, with or without a bullet to the head first. If Dick ended up taking a swim, Wally very much preferred it was without.

"Kid Flash," Wally announced. He saw Dick nervously chewing at his bottom lip.

"…And? Mind telling me what you want? We're kind of busy here."

"I want him," Wally nodded towards his best friend. "Freed."

"Ah, don't think so," the tall one laughed as he took a step forward. "I suggest you walk away now, Runt, unless you want to take a dip too."

Dick tensed at the words, having no idea of his fate until those words were spoken. Wally's eyes narrowed.

"You have to catch me first," he said. Dared.

Wally moved first, zipping straight towards the gunman. He shoved Dick's head down while at the same time, palming the weapon-wielding arm up. The gun spiraled into the air before clattering to the ground out of anyone's reach. Dick toppled over as well, unable to catch himself. Without missing a beat, he began to rub his head against the ground in order to tease his blindfold away. Once removed, he struggled to his feet and took in the scene.

Gusts of wind that Dick had long ago familiarized himself with swarmed the area, accompanied by short fits of laughter as Wally used his speed to hit and taunt and disorient his abductors while running fast enough to remain out of sight. Dick wanted to laugh and cheer as well, but something in the far corner of his memory slithered to the forefront, keeping him solemn.

Dick was certain that there had been three creeps, not two. Where was the third one now?

_Unless he's still in the car…_

Dick craned his neck to look back; the missing creep was already out of said car and holding the cement block over the side of the bridge. Dick shook his head, eyes wide, though he knew it was no use, but the man only offered a terrible grin and released the block.

"_Wal_-"

It was all Dick could get out before the rope went taut and yanked him back to the ground, crashing his chin to the pavement and sucking the air out of his lungs. Not a moment later, he was dragged on his belly along the asphalt at a terrifying speed.

Wally heard the first syllable of his name and stopped what he was doing just in time to see Dick disappear over the edge.

_Ohmygodohmygodohmygod, _his thoughts streamed, chest tight with the time limit now presented to him. _No time for games!_

Wally narrowed in on his new target; the man responsible for dropping the dreaded weight into the water, driving his elbow deep into the man's neck and sending him gurgling to the ground. He wasted no time in changing direction, noticing instantly that the shorter thug was scrambling for the gun. Wally was faster, kicking the weapon out of reach and using all of his body weight to tackle the man to the ground. The speedster then pummeled the man's face with a rapid series of punches until he was out cold.

That left one more. Wally caught him running for the car for a quick get-away, but Wally beat him there, gripping the kidnapper's head in both hands and slamming it hard into the car door. The man didn't lose consciousness, but it was enough to send him to the ground in a heavy daze.

It was good enough for Wally, who then dove into the freezing water below.

It was difficult not to gasp as the bitter iciness sucker-punched him. Arctic tendrils snaked into his throat and grabbed at his lungs, wanting his oxygen, and Wally dreaded the thought of Dick suffering a similar dilemma. If Dick hadn't gulped in a good breath before hitting the water, or if the temperature shocked him enough to rip his air away…

Wally shivered, and it had nothing to do with the water. _How much time has passed already, anyway? _To a speedster? Too long.

With the power in his legs usually devoted to running, Wally propelled himself downwards until the underwater fog seemed to thin. He squinted down into the dark abyss below, where a group of bubbles quivered up towards his face.

To his horror, as he forced himself deeper, he found that the source of those bubbles was Dick, who had hit bottom and was writhing like a worm on a hook. From his movements, Wally could tell that the beginning stages of panic were setting in, and that his friend was already dangerously low on air and was besieged to hold onto whatever he had left.

Then, fear gripped him mercilessly when Dick's wild eyes met his and his mouth burst open, his last pockets of air floating away from him and towards the surface.

_Oh god, oh god, he's drowning!_

Dick's name longed to escape Wally's lips, but Wally could already feel his own lungs starting to burn, and what little air he had left needed to be used in a much more efficient way. He grabbed his friend's shoulders tightly – _You'll make a crack about this later, probably _– and found his mouth, breathing into it as much of his air as he could without dooming himself. He left himself just enough to return topside, suck in a massive breath, then dive back down with renewed speed.

He reached Dick in record time and started working at the knot at his feet that anchored him. The chill of the water kept his fingers stiff and numb, and Wally had to tell himself over and over to stay calm. In his world, the seconds _dragged_, and in a moment where every second counted, it felt more like decades before he started making progress. Next to him, Wally could hear Dick whine and grunt, the small gift of air given to him earlier already starting to wane.

The last of the knot came undone, much to Wally's reprieve, and he looped an arm around Dick's waist as he rocketed them both skyward. They popped out of the water's choppy surface together; Wally gasped for air and kicked against the current while Dick warbled and wheezed in his arms.

Wally latched onto the shore in the darkness of the bridge's underbelly, dragging him and his passenger out. He rolled Dick to his side so the boy could hack up polluted water while he worked on the ropes biting his wrists. He wasn't ignorant to the fact that the winter air was merciless; he and Dick were already trembling.

When his hands were freed, Dick clutched at his chest and whined. Breathing hurt. It felt like icicles were forming in his throat when he tried. He flopped onto his back miserably, eyes pinched, but Wally was hovering over him now, patting his cheek.

"Eyes open, Dude. Come on," he exhaled shakily. Wally hung his head in relief when blue eyes peered up at him, water dripping from his wetted locks and onto Dick's pale face. "…_That_. Was _close_."

Dick wrapped his arms around himself and said nothing. His teeth chattered.

"Okay… Okay," Wally breathed, collecting Dick in his arms, hoping that the contact would provide them both with at least a miniscule amount of much needed heat. He knew running in this weather would be torturously cold for the both of them if he tried, so he trudged up and around the to the top of the bridge instead, smirking a little as he walked past the still-downed thugs and towards their still-running car. He propped Dick up in the passenger seat before jogging to the stubby thug and fishing the cell phone out of his pocket. Wally felt very little guilt leaving them groaning and suffering out in the chill air; unlike Dick and himself, they were dressed for the cold. Without looking back, Wally slid into the driver's side of the car, locked the doors and blasted the heat.

_First things first. I need to contact Bruce and let him know that Dick is okay._

"…Wa… Wally," Dick croaked quietly, though Wally heard him clear as a bell. Their eyes met, but Dick didn't speak again, arms tight around himself and lips quivering. Instead he smiled weakly at his friend. _Thank you_.

Wally returned the smile wearily, unhappy with Dick's shortened breaths and neglect for the spoken word. He flipped open the phone with clumsy fingers. _Don't thank me yet._


	2. Chapter 2

Dick did not remember falling asleep, but when he woke up, he realized he was somewhere new. Somewhere warm. Memories of what had transpired flooded into his mind, keeping things like panic at bay.

He remembered Wally, a friend tried and true, chasing him into the stream and lending him a few more precious seconds of air before dragging him, frozen and sputtering, away from an icy grave. In the car, after making a phone call, Wally had asked one thing of him – don't fall asleep – to which he had pathetically flouted.

He made to rub at his eyes but something kept his hand from moving. Dick found Bruce latched onto it, seated in a fold-up chair and flopped over the bed, sleeping. Dark circles looped under the billionaire's eyes and a deep-set frown tugged at his mouth. Dick squeezed his guardian's hand. "Bruce," he croaked softly.

Bruce woke to it instantly. "Dick," he respired, tugging gently at Dick's hand to lure him into an embrace. Dick returned it gratefully, seizing the moment to observe his surroundings. White. Clean. And sadly… familiar. _Gotham General_, he concluded. "How do you feel?"

"Tired," Dick whispered.

Bruce pulled back from the hug and reached out to tuck dark locks behind Dick's ear. Ever since finding the boys locked in a car on Narrows Bridge – Dick unconscious but breathing (and Wally's pleading face was very, _very _distracting) – the deep-rooted fear he had been feeling was finally starting to dissipate. Now that Dick's core was back to normal temperatures, and now that he was moving around and speaking, Bruce had the evidence he needed to feel like Dick would be okay.

_You gave me a scare son_, Bruce recognized desperately. The feeling must have been profound, seeing as Dick's expression turned apologetic, and Bruce realized that he had spoken the words out loud. He grabbed the boy's face in his hand and rubbed the pad of his thumb over the scuff on Dick's chin.

"I saw their faces," Dick confessed, closing his eyes.

Bruce understood; upon seeing his captor's features, Dick became a liability. As soon as the phone call encouraging Bruce Wayne to carry through with the swap was over, Dick Grayson's usefulness wore off.

_If it hadn't been for Wally…_

He shook his head to chase away those potentially dangerous thoughts. He had never been thrilled with Dick sharing his secret identity with Wally West, but he was admittedly warming up to the idea. The speedster certainly couldn't be the _worst_ person in the world to be in on such things, if recent events were anything to go by.

"Do you need anything?" Bruce asked, redirecting his attention and looking for a distraction in the form of Dick's voice.

"Nope. Well, wait. I might retract that answer," he teetered, folding his arms over his midsection.

"You busted your ribs," Bruce supplied, x-rays and other examinations replaying in his head. Other than the ugly rings around his wrists and ankles from rope, the scrapes on his chin and along his front where skin rubbed against asphalt, as well as a couple other bruises that would fade, Dick was in good shape.

"Technically, _I_ didn't do anything to my ribs. Someone else did." It was meant to be a joke and Dick was making to laugh, but Bruce's darkening expression dissuaded him and he cleared his throat instead. "Sorry. Seriously though, Bruce. I'm _alright_. This isn't the first time I've busted a rib or two. Just wrap me up like a burrito for a week or so and I'll be good as new. …What's the matter?"

Bruce's eyes were narrowed. No, it _wasn't _the first time something like this has happened, as Robin or as Dick Grayson. But it _was_ the first time that he had been too far away to prevent anything irreversible from happening. That triumph belonged to Wally this time, and it both disturbed and reassured the billionaire. "Nothing."

Accepting the answer for now, and as if reading his thoughts, Dick glanced around the room. "Where's Wally?"

"You were both chilled," he explained, still playing with Dick's hair. The thought that someone would anchor his boy to the bottom of the river tried to poison his thoughts. "He's in another room just down the hall. Barry's with him."

"He's here?"

"Yes."

"Down the hall?"

"Yes."

"And he's alright?"

"_Yes_, Dick," Bruce finally grinned a little when a visible weight lifted from Dick's shoulders and his usual brightness started to seep through.

They talked for a while after that, conversation eventually simmering into a comfortable silence before Dick's eyes started to drift shut, comforted by the fact that his guardian would be there with him while he journeyed back to sleep, but Wally's head poked into the room at that moment. He looked tired but well, smiling wearily from the hallway.

Bruce, privy to social cues and realizing that Dick probably needed a moment alone with his friend, stood to leave, though not before trailing his hand through Dick's hair once more.

Wordlessly, they swapped places; Bruce to the door and Wally to the bedside. It was when Bruce paused at the door frame that anyone spoke next.

"Wallace."

Wally flinched at the use of his full name, but turned to face the man obediently, lip caught between his teeth. The last time he spoke with Bruce about the matter was to relay information about what had happened. Bruce had never had a moment to speak with him about his personal feelings or evaluation of his actions.

Was he angry about having lost his communicator? Or maybe it had something to do with the consequences of his fooling around when engaging the kidnappers; if he had been faster to react to the heart of the situation, Dick might have never fallen into the water in the first place. Wally's chest tightened when Bruce took a breath and caught his eye. His voice was low.

"Good work."

And then he was gone, shutting the door behind him.

Stiffly, Wally turned to face his friend, who was smirking.

"Dude. Did he just…" Wally gaped, scrubbing at his ears as if they were damaged. "Did he just _thank_ me?"

Dick chuckled warmly, patting the bed to invite Wally to take a seat across from him. When the speedster obliged, Dick wasted no time in collecting him into a quick hug. The gratitude swimming through him now was immense and threatened to drown him all over again.

"You're welcome," Wally murmured. "Try not to cut it so close next time, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll try. What about you, Walls? You alright?"

Wally snorted. "Me? Please, they couldn't lay a finger on the Wall-man."

"Okay, Wall-man, what did you tell the team?" Dick asked, slightly worried about what Young Justice would think when both Robin _and _Kid Flash didn't show up for a scheduled briefing.

"Have a little faith in me, will you? I told them you were pulled aside to do the Dynamic Duo thing and no one batted an eye."

"And you?"

"I 'overslept.'"

"_Smooth_, Wally," Dick said, rubbing a hand down his tired face to shield the smile stretching his lips. "I'm sure they bought it, though."

"Hey! Come on, man, I had to come up with something."

Dick cackled.

"I hate you," Wally frowned.

"Somehow I don't think you do. You did _kiss_ me, after all."

"_Dude_!" Wally's eyes bulged and he threw his hands up into the air. "How did I _know _you were going to-!? It was a _kiss of life, _okay!?" His hands flailed and Dick's laughter grew and grew until it was bouncing off the walls and he was holding his aching sides.

"Kiss of life? Wally, that's CPR!"

"_Whatever_! You're so ungrateful!" Wally barked, though he failed to suppress humor bubbling up from the back of his throat. "That '_kiss_'," he emphasized with air quotations, "..._saved your life_."

He fixed a glare at his best friend, but Dick was laughing too long and hard and Wally couldn't help but crumble and laugh with him.

"Oh god," Dick groaned once they had died down. "Laughter is _not _always the best medicine."

"Sorry, sorry."

"Nah," Dick waved him off before pawing at his eyes. He took on a more sober expression. "Thanks, though, Wally."

During their laughing fit, Bruce had returned, but instead of making his presence known, he lingered just outside. Dick was in good hands at the moment. The sound of his giggling seeped through the crack under the door and Bruce was smothered with relief.

Dick's choice in friends and his decision to trust and depend on them so deeply was a part of Dick's personality that differentiated him from Bruce. That difference sometimes alarmed the billionaire, but it also meant that Dick wasn't turning out like him, so the alarm was quickly snuffed with feelings of pride and adoration.

Eventually the boys' voices softened to quiet mumbles behind the barrier of the door. Bruce allowed himself a few steps back, giving himself a moment of reflection. He hadn't known that happiness had a sound until Dick came into his life. Now that he had it, he had no intention of letting it go –

A loud crash sounded through the door, followed by a rushed, "Holy crap, sorry – haha – I did _not _see that there!"

– even if it meant letting people like Wally West, _in_.


End file.
